Into Borg Space
by Totem Of Storms
Summary: A short story examining the likely course of events during Voyager's first month in Borg space following the Scorpion story, based on the thought that the writers of the series really didn't want to acknowledge just what Borg space would be like.


_Captain's Log, stardate ... We've been inside Borg space for three weeks now. Three weeks since the defeat of Species 8472 and the Borg trying to turn on us. Three weeks since any of us slept peacefully._

"We're approaching effective sensor range," Harry announced. "We should be getting readings from the planet shortly." His voice sounded tired, and was still a bit hoarse.

"Understood," Janeway responded, holding herself firm and not looking at Harry. Even the darkness of the bridge at red alert didn't hide the scarring down the side of his face. Something that should, even under Voyager's tricky circumstances, have been easy to fix. Three weeks ago even, it would have been easy to fix...

"All decks report silent running," Chakotay announced from beside her. "Engines are down and we're cruising purely on inertia. External lighting is minimal, and we've burnt off as much of the ship's ghost field as we're going to."

"Hull status?" Janeway glanced across to the right, where B'Elanna had set up her temporary station for this operation.

"Nothing serious so far," B'Elanna replied. "We've got a handful of micrometeorite impacts, but the ablative plating is handling that. As long as we don't run into anything bigger we'll be fine," she added tensely, clearly expecting that they would.

Janeway didn't chide her for the tone of voice or the pessimistic attitude. She knew that she herself felt the same way. This would be the fourth time that they had approached a world like this...

"Intial readings coming in," Harry informed them. "Atmospheric readings look good. No signs of advanced technology so far. It's not quite M-Class, but it looks like we'll be able to set down there for a while at least."

"So far so good," Tom commented.

"Don't jinx it lieutenant," Janeway responded, her tone not entirely joking. They really couldn't afford any problems at this point...

* * *

The slow crawl continued for two hours, covering barely ten percent of the journey towards the planet, when they started to get more detailed reports.

"Some signs of habitation turning up," Harry announced. "Not significantly advanced. No signs of combat."

"We're starting to pick up some heat traces," B'Elanna called out. "The hull's handling it so far, but if we run into a solar flare or something it's going to be dicey."

Janeway nodded to acknowledge this news, but nothing more. They had known going in that the navigational deflectors handled most of the background radiation and debris that they could run into in space. But those would be easily detected, along with the ship's ghost field - the subspace shadow cast by any active equipment that interfaced with subspace, including the warp drive, communications, faster-than-light sensors, and transporters. Everything that would protect them, allow them to see danger coming, or allow them to escape danger.

"Starting to pick up some cities," Harry continued. "You never know, we might actually be able to get some help down there rather than just..." He trailed off. "Oh no..."

"Ensign?" Janeway turned now, aware that there were very few things that would worry Harry at this point, and all of them should cause her concern.

"Borg Cube in orbit," Harry announced.

"Confirmed," Tuvok chimed in. "One standard class Cube in overwatch orbit."

"They must be overseeing the assimilation on the surface," Chakotay guessed.

"Second Cube detected," Harry interrupted. "Low orbit."

"That settles it," Tom said.

"That it does," Janeway said softly. A single Cube in overwatch orbit they could have dodged, with care and luck. A second Cube... "Tom, get us out of here. B'Elanna, bring our systems back up slowly."

Tom plied the controls, gently altering the ship's course so that they were heading away from the planet. Changing course at all was risky, but following their projected course any closer to the planet would be equally risky, at least; Borg sensors would be able to pick up the minimal power that they were using if they went much further. At least out here, maybe, the Borg wouldn't care about a single ship heading quietly away.

The disappointment of having to abandon another world was crushing; three weeks into Borg space, supplies low, no allies, no chance to rest. Even the Northwest Passage was useless to them; worlds were either Borg or decimated by Species 8472. Every world was a deathtrap waiting to ensnare them, every ship a threat that had to be avoided at all costs.

"Contact!" Harry shouted, breaking through Janeways thoughts. "Borg scoutship at twenty three thousand kilometres."

"How did that get so close?" Chakotay demanded.

"It was running silently," Tuvok answered. "I suspect that it may also have some kind of camouflage as well, perhaps even a cloak. We were not even able to detect communications with the Collective."

"Time to contact?" Janeway snapped.

"They are having to power up, just as we are. Their communications have been re-established however. I estimate three minutes till they will be in effective contact range."

"That's about the same estimate I can give you for warp drive," B'Elanna warned. "We're trying to reduce it as much as we can, but it isn't going to be easy."

Janeway kept quiet; this was going to be closer than the other worlds that they had approached. Those worlds they had been detected when they jumped to warp and were on their way out. This time...

"The scoutship will be in transporter range in thirty five seconds," Tuvok warned as the deadline approached.

"All hands, standby to repel boarders," Chakotay instructed, the computer relaying the command automatically across the ship. How well this would work... They had managed to fend off the last set of boarders, but those had been a handful of drones, beamed on at extreme range from a crippled sphere. The scoutship probably had a full complement, easily a match for Voyager's crew if they decided to abandon the scoutship in the process. Even if they didn't, the Collective was learning quickly, with each attack taking a shorter time before they seemed to be impervious to the crew's phasers.

"Warp drive is ready," B'Elanna called mere seconds later.

"On it," Tom replied before Janeway could issue any orders. Immediately the ship leapt forwards, the stars on the screen blurring.

Silence reigned for a moment. Janeway knew that her crew were demoralized. It was her job to say something positive and encourage them. She had to give them direction, and provide a focus. Instead all she could think was how tired she was.

"Carry on," she said eventually, standing and heading for her ready room.

* * *

Chakotay gave her a few minutes to collect herself before intruding. By the time he arrived she had recovered her composure as best she would be able to, only the red in her eyes suggesting that she had been otherwise during her time alone.

"So what's my next move?" she asked.

"Tricky," Chakotay admitted. "According to B'Elanna we have antimatter and deuterium reserves to last us four weeks if we travel at warp five. That doesn't leave us much in the way of options. The only practical one is... The one we don't want to take," he admitted.

"Turning around," Janeway said, her voice hollow. "How far would we get?"

"We would be out of Borg space," Chakotay admitted. "Not far, and not very certain. We'd have little to trade for fuel, but we could manage it. After that... We would need to reassess again. With the records we have now we can track the size of Borg space. It's big, but we have an idea of how big. There's an idea going around that if we get enough fuel we might just stick everyone in stasis and fly out of the galactic plane. One high efficiency flight later we would be over the far side of Borg space and we could come back into normal flying."

"That would be risky," Janeway replied, trying to suppress the glimmer of hope that was kindled by the idea. "If the Borg spotted us while we were in that state..."

"We could set up the computer to bring us out if another ship got too close. B'Elanna is running some of the numbers and they come out as viable, but... It would be close. There's also a thought about building some kind of ram scoop so that we can draw fuel from a gas giant. There are others, some more practical, some less so."

"Most of them relying on resources that we don't have available to us at the moment," Janeway pointed out. "We're running low on spare parts as it is." She sighed. "I'll have Tom turn us around. One straight run back out of Borg space, and we should be safe to trade at least. How we'll organise that I dread to think; the moral issues of surviving by selling our technological and scientific knowledge to those who aren't necessarily ready for it..."

"Asking people to die for the Prime Directive is a lot easier when it's a quick death," Chakotay replied. "Asking them to die simply because the ship ran out of power as a matter of principle..." He smiled, reaching out a hand and resting it on her shoulder. "We'll get through this yet."

Janeway's reply was cut off as the ship shock abruptly, nearly throwing them both to the deck. Outside the window the starlines of warp travel shimmered and flickered before flaring as the ship slammed ingloriously back to sublight speeds.

Coming to her feet, Janeway looked outside. There was no sign of trouble, no indication of an enemy. They just seemed to have stopped. "Janeway to B'Elanna," she called, tapping her commbadge. "Report."

"I'm not sure what happened yet captain," B'Elanna replied. "All I know is that we lost power to the starboard nacelle. Power was lost in... Oh hell, we've got fires reported near one of the main power lines. I'll get back to you," she concluded before cutting the connection.

* * *

By the time Janeway made it down to the site of the emergency, the situation was under control. Mostly.

"Emergency force fields didn't come on," B'Elanna reported. "The junction that blew out knocked out most of the power in this section." She indicated the flickering emergency lighting and, just down the corridor the way that the smoke curled in the air where the gravity plating had given out. "We've got the fires under control, and portable generators to shore up the worst of it."

"How long until we can get it repaired?" Janeway asked.

"I don't know if we can," replied Baines, one of the original Starfleet engineering crew. "This might be too much damage."

"We can't be sure of that," B'Elanna replied, but the response lacked the fire that Janeway would have normally expected from the former Marquis engineer when faced with a challenge like this.

"We can make a good guess though," Baines objected. "The maintenance log for this section shows that everything within about three metres of the junction that failed has been replaced since we came into the Delta Quadrant. Sometimes we got good equipment, but according to this," he continued, gesturing to a padd in his hand, "90% of what is in there is sub-standard, jury rigged, or in need of replacement. No offence to them, the Marquis engineers have kept us going a long way past when this ship should have fallen apart, but even they can't work the kind of miracles that we need in order to get out of this."

Janeway looked between the two engineers, seeing the resignation and weariness in both faces. "Can we get it repaired?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"We might be able to bypass it," B'Elanna offered. "We might be able to patch it up. But he's right: we'll be putting patches on top of patches and temporary repairs. I'm not promising miracles."

* * *

The final report was damning. Janeway read it through twice before calling the senior staff together.

"It doesn't look like we're going to be able to make it," she declared, her tone as weary and flat as everyone else no doubt felt. "B'Elanna and the engineering crew have managed to pull together enough components to patch up the junction that failed. But it's not able to handle a lot of stress. We're stuck at warp three."

"We could still make it out, surely?" Neelix said. "We'll be going slower, but even so-"

"It's to do with power efficiencies," B'Elanna replied. "At warp five we use power at our best power/ speed ratio. At warp three we use less power because we're going slower, but we're going sufficiently slower that the same amount of power won't get us as far, particularly when taking into account overheads like life support, sensors and stuff like that. If we want to get out of Borg space, we need warp four point two, minimum. I can't even be sure that the junction will hold together at warp three for long periods, but it's the best I can be sure of for the near future."

"So what do we do?" Harry asked. "There must be some way that we can get out of Borg space..."

"At present our best hope is to find a derelict and take what we can from it," Janeway admitted. "Failing that..." She shook her head slowly. "Failing that we're into ideas like stealing from the Borg, or..." She sighed. "If anyone has any viable options other than simply detonating the warp core to ensure that we don't get captured, I'm all for it."

There was a silence in response to that one, and she knew that she had said the wrong thing; normally she would have knocked down an idea like that immediately, but after all this time...

"Senior staff, report to the bridge," came the call over the intercom as she opened her mouth to apologise.

All of them were moving within seconds, no one bothering to say anything. There wasn't much that they could say at this point.

"Report," Janeway demanded as she stalked onto the bridge.

"We've got a signal," Harry said, taking over at the sensor station. "Not Borg, but close by. Cycling communications protocols... Looks like the same message every time though."

"Let's hear it," Janeway ordered, hoping and desperation flaring within her. Another voice calling out into the darkness for help would be one that they couldn't offer help to. But a voice offering help...

The communication was somewhat mangled, cut through with static and it took two cycles of it before the universal translator finally managed to get itself sorted out and provide them with an intelligible message. "This is Leeom Harod of the Chau Conglomeration. Is anyone able to respond to this message?"

"What's the source?" Janeway asked.

"Unknown without expanding and focusing our sensors," Tuvok warned. "Any Borg ships in the area would detect this. However, the transmission is a broadcast: the Borg will certainly be picking it up as well."

"Respond, narrowcast only. And try to work out where the transmission is coming from."

"You're on," Harry announced.

"This is captain Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. You should be aware that this area is home to a hostile species called the Borg; you need to modify your transmission to be a narrowcast rather than broadcasting."

The message got halfway through another loop before abruptly cutting out, being replaced by the same person, but clearly no longer a recording. "Captain Janeway, we receive your response. We require assistance and we hope that you can help us."

"They are still broadcasting," Tuvok warned.

"A disease has struck our world. We are unable to develop a cure for it. Our resources are stretched too thinly. Please, can you help us?"

"They're sending details about the disease," Harry announced.

"Do we risk bringing the Doctor online to look at it?" Chakotay wondered.

"No need," Harry announced, "we've-"

"Harry, mute the channel," Chakotay ordered sharply.

"Muted," Harry replied, looking confused.

"We have a cure?" Chakotay asked.

"According to this," Harry said, indicating his screen, "we ran into this disease about six months ago. It must have jumped ahead of us on another ship; we picked up the cure when we ran into it."

"What are you thinking?" Janeway asked.

"I don't like the idea," Chakotay warned, "but we're in trouble already. Can we afford to just give this away?"

Janeway sighed. "True. Tuvok, any information about them?"

"I have managed to locate the source of the transmisson," he declared. "It is approximately two days away at warp three, and appears to be a wormhole. From the configuration, I would suggest that it is semi-stable."

"A semi-stable wormhole," Harry said, slightly in awe. "If that leads outside Borg space..."

"Even if it takes us to the far side of the Gamma Quadrant it would be better than here," Chakotay pointed out.

"Let me speak to them," Janeway ordered Harry, hope kindling within her. When Harry nodded she spoke. "Leeom Harod, this is Captain Janeway. We have found that we possess a cure for this disease. However, we require something in return for it."

"What could you require? We have much to offer."

"The wormhole that you are communicating through... As I've said, we're in the middle of hostile space. We need to use the wormhole that you are communicating through in order to escape this place. We can be at its location in two days."

"Captain Janeway, the wormhole we are communicating through changes its endpoint periodically. In less than a day it will change location once more."

"We've got information we could give them about holding the endpoint in place," Harry offered. "It's power intensive, but if they're talking to us at all through the wormhole they should have some kind of technology for handling it."

"Many of our resources have already been diverted," Leeom Harod objected. "What we have left will be taxed most severely by what you suggest. You must send us the cure."

"I'm sorry," Janeway apologised, keeping her tone level. They couldn't afford for this to get out of hand... "But we are trapped here right now. This wormhole is the only way we have of getting out of hostile territory; we will be dead if we try any other means." She turned and looked around, hoping that someone would be able to help her.

"Harry," Chakotay chimed in, "send them some of the records about the cure; something to prove that we do have it."

Harry worked frantically, then nodded. "I've just sent some of the news and medical reports we copied. I can put in some medical reports..." He trailed off, the obvious issue being left unspoken: give too much and the Chau Conglomeration might not need their help any more.

"Leeom Harod, is this proof satisfactory?" Janeway asked, striving to keep her tone level. The silence drew on further, and Janeway cursed that anyone had ever developed a means of muting a transmission.

"This proof... Appears to indicate that you have what you claim," Leeom Harod declared eventually. "How long will it take you to synthesize a cure once you arrive?"

"If we can repower the replicators we can produce it in moderate quantity almost immediately," Harry admitted.

There was a stony silence from the other end once more, before Leeom Harod came back again. "The first deaths are expected shortly after you indicate you will reach the wormhole... We will... Hope... That your journey is swift..."

* * *

"We're coming up on the wormhole," Tom announced, dropping the ship from warp and shifting their course slightly. "We'll be there in eight minutes."

"Nice navigating," Janeway congratulated him. Eight minutes at sub-light was a good time; travelling at faster-than-light speeds, especially when power conservation meant that you had to get everything right first time, made hitting targets tricky. Play it wrong and you might end up coming out of warp far enough away from your target that you would take hours to get there, but still be close enough that going back to warp would be impractical. Eight minutes was a good time. She looked up at Harry. "Hail Leeom Harod again," she instructed.

"Channel open," Harry replied. The scarring on his face had recovered somewhat, but more than that it was the light in his eyes that made the situation look better.

"Leeom Harod, this is captain Janeway. Please respond."

"I am here captain," came the prompt response. There was a terse tone to the voice, which had been growing steadily more worried over the last two days. Power to keep the wormhole in place was running short, and the worse cases of the disease had suffered badly; there had been two near misses, barely dragged back from the brink before Janeway could give in and send the cure through anyway.

"We're a few minutes away from the wormhole," she announced. "We're down to sub-light speeds for this part. We've already replicated quantities of the cure which you will be able to take possession of as soon as we're through, and once we've taken on fuel we can replicate more." That had been a hard negotiation: Voyager's need for repairs and fuel had come up, and eventually the only way around it had been to power on a single replicator to produce a quantity of the cure. This would be deployed to the worst cases immediately, while Voyager's needs were seen to. No one was happy about this.

"We await your arrival," came the abrupt response. "The worst cases have been transferred to a medical frigate orbiting the wormhole. You will dock with them on arrival."

"Understood," Janeway agreed, before looking around sharply when a bleeping came from Tuvok's console. "What's wrong?"

"Borg Cube on approach," Tuvok announced, Vulcan calm not quite smothering the distress that he evidently felt. "I estimate their arrival at the wormhole to be nine minutes from now."

"How quickly can the wormhole endpoint be moved?" Janeway asked, looking around the bridge.

"From what the Chau have told us it goes through regular cycles," Harry replied. "Even if they disconnect from it totally, it'll be sixteen hours before it moves on."

"Can we force it to move?" Chakotay asked.

"The best I can come up with right now is disrupting it totally," Harry informed them, working hard at his console as he did. "It might recover later, but the Borg wouldn't be able to make use of it, even if they tried to re-establish it."

"Leeom Harod, did you hear that?"

"We heard," can the resigned response. "Your enemy has found us."

"It would have happened sooner or later anyway," Janeway said, half by way of apology. "The Borg would have tracked down the source of your transmission eventually. We'll disrupt the wormhole as we come through it; the Borg won't be able to use that to follow us after that."

"If this is what must be done, then so be it," Leeom Harod said wearily. "We will be waiting for you." The channel cut as he disconnected.

Janeway looked at the screen for a moment, contemplating it. "Harry," she said slowly. "Set up a transmission. Once we enter the wormhole, send them the details of the cure. If anything happens to us..."

"I'm on it," Harry agreed.

Tense minutes passed, before Tom abruptly slewed the ship to one side and angled down. Janeway didn't bother to ask why: the brilliant discharge of the wormhole opening before them told her all that she needed.

"Disrupting it now," Harry announced as they passed the event horizon.

* * *

"Well, what's the total?" Janeway asked, looking out of her ready room window.

"Some serious injuries, a few in need of prosphetics, but no fatalities," Chakotay announced. "The Chau are all responding to the cure very well."

"There's some good at least," Janeway allowed.

"Captain? I thought you would be happier than this."

"So did I," she admitted. "Repairs are underway, we're clear of the Borg, we're refueled, and the people we're temporarily living with have taken more of a liking to us. I should be ecstatic. I just tired though." Without another word she handed him the padd that she had been reading whe he came in.

He took it, reading it carefully. It was the result of three days of work by Harry and Tuvok, and in its simplest form it summarized their location. They were clear of Borg space, and weren't likely to run into the Borg again on their way home. But the cost...

"We've lost ten years," Chakotay said slowly. "Ten years extra travel time to get home from here."

"We're almost further than ever," Janeway agreed. "Not quite back to where we started, but to start with we had Neelix helping us to find our way. Now we've got nothing."

"We've got hope," Chakotay replied. "We've got a fresh start. And we're alive to make the attempt. In the mean time, the Laeden Council want to talk to us about where we're going from here. Come on; let's go and plan the future, now that we have one."


End file.
